Scarlet Snow
by JezebelBelfire
Summary: You, a simple radio announcer and hacker in NY, had always dreamed of working for S.H.I.E.L.D. And after the Avengers barely managed to save the world and destroyed half of New York, your resolve increased. But your instincts told you it was only the inception of something greater, something worse... Set pre-Winter Soldier. Rating M for dark themes & content. (You/Reader x Bucky)


_What a beautiful evening_

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><p><strong>This is my first Captain America  Marvel fan fiction! After I saw the Winter Soldier, I was pleasantly surprised how well the story was written - especially the character development. And don't forget about the visuals! Ugh, I loved all the characters. All of them were absolutely amazing in this. Now I'm a huge fan (bigger than before) of the Captain America franchise. Bucky as a very interesting and intriguing character who needs in my opinion, a bit more fleshing out. I'm very excited to see the third Captain America in the series and the upcoming Avengers: Age of Ultron. Now, I've read a lot of amazing fictions of Bucky and romance stories involving him with a well-written OC.**

**I thought long and hard about doing a fan fiction myself and now I finally got my butt in gear and pushed myself to do this. Let's see how rusty I've gotten since I lost my muse a long time ago. Thankfully, I got an idea that sparked my muse once more. So why the heck not? **

**What I can predict, is a dark story full of angst, drama, psychological study, violence and of course some romance c:**

**This will involve an OC which will be the reader. I'll do my best to keep it clear and fun enough to read. Also, I know its a bit harder to write in 1st person but I want to include Bucky's POV and perspective as well. This will be a bit more of a slow paced, realistic approach to Bucky's humane side and what is left of his crumbling memory of whom he once was. However, I will give the reader (you) a name since it'll make things a lot easier. I hope you understand ^u^**

**I hope you'll enjoy my little story. Set slightly before Captain America: Winter Soldier.**

**You, a young woman who works at a famed radio-station in New York. After the events of New York's near annihilation, S.H.I.E.L.D and the Avenger initiative, a lot of things have changed completely. Your work mostly consisted out of bringing the hottest news of Stark Industries and report the latest updates of the lives of the very heroes who had saved so many innocent people that day. But never did you think you would wind up in that sort of business after you accidentally stumbled upon a suspicious foreign frequency that belonged to the long-lost forgotten organisation called Hydra. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel / Captain America or any of its characters. I only own my original characters.**

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It was saturday afternoon in New York City as you drove home in your brand new sleek SUV, a black model with slick varnishing and silver rims. You kept your hand firmly wrapped around the wheel while focusing on the road ahead of you. The warm orange sun that slowly vanished into the horizon painted the clouds in a gentle rosy color. It seemed almost romantic or like a perfect ending from a long strenuous day. It wasn't an easy task working for the WHTZ-FM as a radio announcer, but it's a living, and it payed decent amounts as well. Besides, you were often praised for your absolute suave and unique voice, the ability of consoling others without taking any palpable measures. Yep, that was you. A twenty-four year young woman with a somewhat above the average job, a mediocre single live and a fat house-cat named Morrison housing in your cozy apartment.

Thinking about it reminded you how glad you were when you moved into the suburban areas. The inner city was too large, too grand and definitely too loud. But as you drifted further into your own oblivion, you began to notice the irking sensation of sun-light stinging your sensitive vision. As a counter, you quickly craned your neck and pulled down the car visor with your delicate hand. Once the bright light ceased the stinging, your face relaxed, your chest deflating in slight relief. Suddenly, a car honked at you, then violently overhauled you in a rude circular motion. Your mouth dropped open with chagrin, your brows drawing closely together to the point where a crease formed between them. It was an azure pick-up Chevy with a flag of the confederate states of America plastered on the back window. _Of course… a redneck.. what else?_ Puffing up your chest, you rolled down the window and without hesitation, flipped him the bird. In response, the man shot his tattooed arm outside his window as well and returned your kind gesture with derisive glee.

"Get the hell off the road you no-backwards-count trash!" you shouted. Meanwhile, other cars commenced violent honking at the rude driver who now began to terrorise the others. Shaking your head in disbelief, you rolled up your window again and inhaled heavily through the nostrils to calm your mind. _The nerve…. _And it was just not good for yours. Being pressured in your work as a simple announcer was enough nerve-wrecking for the day.

After a while, things settled to a calm state again, your road grew smaller with each exit ramp you took towards your home. Finally reaching the suburban areas of New York, you nearly felt a load fall of your mind. It was like a constricting straight-jacket has been removed and your lungs were allowed to fill themselves with air again. Big cities just emitted so much toxin and fumes into the air, it was impossible for you to breathe comfortably if there weren't any air-conditioning. Pulling over, you made an elegant turn to the left to slowly approach your lovely little park apartment. It was tiled with creamy white wooden panels - a classic in American architecture. Slowing down the engine, you shifted into first gear and then turned the machinery completely off.

Steadying to a halt, you made sure you turned on your breaks so your new car would not roll away and collect some damage. The car-model was sponsored and partially designed by Stark industries after all and we couldn't have that now, could we? Smiling proudly to yourself, you twisted the keys and pulled it out of the fuse, then checked yourself in the mirror one last time.

You were of warm ivory skin, a smooth complexion with a beauty mark under each eye - a rare genetic inheritance that you've gotten from your great grandfather. Your hair was the darkest shade of black, almost shimmering faintly blue whenever a ray of light hit your luscious strands, displaying all sorts of dark spectrums. Your locks were cut in a pixie-like style, though only longer.

Most of your hair was styled fashionably to the side with the ends slightly spiking up. You spotted your bangs not being in place - so you licked your index and middle finger with saliva and slicked the two hair strands back in place until it reached the image of your own mindset perfection.

Examining your face, you saw attractive features gazing back at you though they were not overly beautiful. You had distinctive features and you were glad to have them - it made you one of a kind. The next minute you quickly slipped out of the car with your shoulder-bag tucked to the side and slammed the door shut with a little extra amount of force so it wouldn't fall open again. Your cloudy storm-grey eyes peered up to the upper part of the house where you apartment resided. The stairwell was broad enough for two people to walk on and the door itself painted in a cool ochre with the golden number 9 screwed on it, illuminated by a cozy outdoor light right over the door bell. Trotting up the stairs, you began counting the steps subconsciously as you always did whenever you got home or left for work. _2 - 4 - 8 - 12 - 17 - 20…._

With the key-chain still in your hand, you began searching the right one for to unlock the door to your own little kingdom. As the right key slid into your fingers, your smile went wider when it fit perfectly into the key-hole. With one single motion, the door was unlocked, giving way for your to enter.

Stepping in you were greeted by a very pleasant scent of buttercream and cupcake. Full of greed you inhaled while closing the door behind you in a sound motion. "Ah man, I just love coming home like this. Those scented candles on sale weren't such a bad deal." you hummed to yourself.

As soon as you dropped your bag to the floor beside the kitchen counter, an audible mewl caught your immediate attention that lead into the dark living room. Searching, you attempted to pin-point the source from where the noise came from. You switched on the lights and saw everything brighten up before your eyes. Everything was as you had left it. A soft beige couch spread out in the middle, designed in a flat square-ish shape with a round rattan coffee table sitting before it. Turning left, you walked into the living-room that was openly connected to the hallway, kitchen and dining-room. The whole residence wasn't exactly large for you only had three rooms in total, but it was your home. Your sweet _sweet_ home.

Another deep meow rang from your side, but this time you could spot the one who was the cause of this sound. A familiar smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Peering down you saw your one and only Morrison. Morrison was a large, thickly maine coon cat with sleek grey fur, adorned with classic dark grey stripes and a fluffy tail. Morrison's fur was a bit longer and thus harder to comb through but whenever he was freshly groomed, his fur felt like heaven to the touch - so soft, so plush. A small cute yawn escaped his little yaws while he did the famous cat-yoga stretch.

Rolling on his back, his slits slowly opened to two beautiful stormy green hues that starred up at his owner. The instant you saw him, your heart squeezed and melted inside your chest. You bent down to take a seat next to your cat. Morrison sank a little into the cushion when you let your complete weight drop beside him. _He could match the size of a medium sized dog…._

Reaching out you began to fondle with his large twitchy ears. His sensible ears flickered at your touch but quickly familiarised with it when he reckoned no harm in the loving gesture. Snorting in bemusement you deepened the physical contact by moving further onto his head where he pressed against your palm in return. A deep audible purr began to reverberate from Morrison as a sign of gratification.

"Oh man, you smooth little snake-charmer. You've been waiting for this all day, haven't you?" A small husky meow rolled out of Morrison as if agreeing to what you just said. "Aw, you have such a hard life don't you? Getting to lay in bed or on the couch all day doing nothing. And when you're not sleeping, you get to frolic outside with other kittens or play in the woods." Morrison pressed a squishy paw on your right cheek when you leaned in closer. The very motion made you chuckle. It was so damn adorable and you relished every minute of his affection for you.

Figuring it was time to feed the hungry lion, you shimmied out of your beige leather jacket and unbuttoned the first two buttons of your baby-blue blazer. The gentle grey beast began to groan in slight impatience "Alright alright. I'm going to get your dinner. Just hold on a second your highness." Leaving your jacket on the couch, you trotted your way to the kitchen and moved to one of the wooden cupboards above the stove and opened it up, groping the nearest cat-food tin you could get your fingers on.

_'Meowww' _ Morrison mewled almost melodramatically as he already scuttled up behind you. He eagerly licked his chops and watched intently how you opened the can to serve his gelatinised processed food. Popping it open, you then crouched down to his simple white bowl and hit the back of the can so everything would slip out in one squall. "Here, just the way you like it. Disgusting." you sighed to only watch him dig into the food with ravenous hunger. It almost made your stomach churn from the sound of his loud munching and slurping.

"Pig." you commented finally. Quickly, you rose back to your full height before empty trash was thrown into the trash-bin next to your counter. Not feeling very hungry yourself, you decided to make some simple earl grey tea to relax for the upcoming evening. It kept you awake and warm for most of the time and wasn't as strong as coffee - and coffee drove you nearly insane.

You had absolute no tolerance for caffeine. The last time it happened was when your good friend Micah tricked you into drinking a 'decaf' cappuccino. The next thing you knew was dancing your ass off in the nearest club and after that, everything went black; _mental blank_ as everyone calls it. Micah still teases you about it to this day, saying that you supposedly yelled at a lamp post when you were high on caffeine and alcohol.

With a pang of shame and also slight discomfort, you brushed those thoughts aside to concentrate on your tea you were currently making. Filling the water-boiler with enough water, you then placed it on its panel to turn on the power for the water to cook. After the boiler shut itself off in a clicking motion, the water bubbled and steamed; ready to be used for your tea.

You hurried with your teabag and placed it deftly into the white porcelain cup that happened to have an American flag logo printed on; beneath there stood 'Proud to be an American'. Another snort rumbled in your throat. Your dad sure loved his country and relished in his patriotism - especially because he was a fan of Captain America ever since he was a little boy.

You on the other hand were not as enthusiastic about it as he was, not after when you were clarified about your great-grandfather Abraham Erskine's fate. He married an American woman by the name of Quinn - the same woman you were named after. Your name was Quinn Erskine, a descendant from the famed scientist and doctor, the one who supposedly created the super soldier miracle Steve Rogers… before he was shot in cold blood…

You took your time to lean on the counter so the tea could take a moment to gather and distribute all the flavours in the hot water. It was silent inside your apartment. You haven't even noticed Morrison finishing his dinner and leaving for the bedroom to take another nap. The clock hanging above your archway ticked softly… but the rest was a depressing silence.

In truth you were very lonely. Sure you had many friends with Micah being your best mate but you rarely got the chance to see them because of your duties and job and you swore that each day, more work awaited you because of the damn _Avengers_. Not that you weren't endlessly grateful and relieved when they saved the world, including you. Hell, you even got all riled up and excited when you heard someone whispering their name. But now, after the destruction, chaos and near alien invasion, you were not as keen anymore.

And the more you thought about it, the more it repelled you. You just could not shake off this feeling that it wasn't over yet…. like it was only the beginning of a bigger, more ferocious storm.

"I wonder what the Cap does all day now that he's a well-regarded international hero." Thoughtfully you sipped some of your tea, glaring into nothingness. The tea was hot and nearly burned your tongue. Because of this, it overshadowed the fine taste of your Twinings earl grey. But you kept on drinking it anyway until the last drop was gone. Gently placing the cup back on the counter, you then decided to put it into the sink for rinsing it out tomorrow morning. Right now you did not have the energy or drive on doing anything else but to crash onto your couch and switch on some mindless television.

Resolute, you pushed yourself from the counter, bounding around a corner and headed to your bed-room. You opened the door when an immediate cold shiver rolled over you. "Shit." You quickly rushed for the open window you had forgotten to close this morning. Now the entire room-temperature was freezing cold.

Even dear Morrison who was curled into a ball in the middle of your bed showed small signs of chills. You practically saw your warm breath rising into the air - a definite sign that winter was coming. Once the window connected to the frame, you turned the handle to screw it shut and secure for the night.

The next step was to turn on the cheap heater next to your king-sized platform bed, with its structure made out of mahogany wood and the mattress coloured a deep wine red, covered in a thick dark grey blanket and two matching pillows on each half. Not that you had often company…. you just preferred a bit more space, that was all. Knowing you often rolled around in your sleep and had trouble staying in one place for all your dreams were so strangely intense and not even your psychologists could properly figure out why you were suffering from insomnia and countless nightmares.

The notion made you frown and the light that hit the top of your cranium cast a shadow over your distinctive features, creating a dark look that was not usual for you. Morrison peeked at you with one eye and widened it from your uncharacteristic expression.

But neither anger nor irritation crossed your mind - instead, you were brooding after you thoroughly wrecked your brain for any detail that could've made you forget about the window. As far as you could recall, you got up on time and finished with the daily morning ritual in a matter of few minutes. You were _sure_ you hadn't left the window open. If it were the case of letting in some fresh air into your sacred bedroom, you'd only opened it a crack so Morrison wouldn't jump out from the first floor. He was a bit pudgy after all.

A feeling of slight suspicion and fear slowly clawed itself onto your back; provoking your frown to deepen further. _I did not leave my window open…. I closed it before I headed out, as always. I'm sure of it…_ The suspicion within grew like spreading wild-fire, causing all sorts of fearsome sensations & images rush through your head. Did somebody break in?

And if so, why was the window opened from the freaking inside?! Your heartbeat quickened, your breathing strained as the lungs ceased to function from the fear. You weren't good with these kinds of things. Your father used to be a police officer, so naturally you and your mother always feared for his safety. Thankfully, he was never harmed but still, he lived a very _very _dangerous life in the streets of NY.

The possibilities of the intrusion brought you back to your original thoughts.

Did he perhaps break in from the front door and escaped through your window?! You twirled around with searching eyes in order to find any sort of missing or damaged belongings.

You ran out of your bedroom and began to check every other inch of your cozy apartment, combing through each arial to find nothing missing from your belongings. Even your possessions in the shelves, wardrobes, closets and other storages were left untouched. Despite the anodyne news that nothing from your apartment was missing or damaged, you returned to your bed-room to see a picture frame lying face down on the floor. You wondered why you hadn't noticed it before - It appeared that someone or someone tossed it over… intentionally. For a moment, you guessed the offender might be Morrison playing with lifeless objects on your drawers, though the assumption died instantly when you picked up the picture to see your great-grandfather Abraham in the blurry image.

The glass was smashed in and the picture itself was partially torn in a violent manner. Your mouth thinned into a narrow line. The examination indicated force had been used here, possibly stemming from human hand since there were no claw marks on this one. Besides, Morrison was a peaceful soul and only scratched your furniture when he didn't get what he wanted.

A pang of fear took over you once again, but also slight anger for assaulting your treasured family possession. It was a very valuable memory to you and you always held that in honour.

"Who would do such thing?" Gripping the frame tighter till your knuckles turned white, you walked back to the drawer to put it back on the same spot and swept some of the broken glass shards from the wooden surface into your hand. You got rid of it by tossing it in the trash-can in your small bathroom underneath the sink. In order to make sure that every shard was gone from your hand, you turned on the faucet and let some warm water pour over your palms and fingers. Meanwhile, you stared at yourself in the mirror.

"Who would do such a thing…?" You echoed to yourself in a ghostly whisper. Someone having the utter nerve to break into your home, smashing up your treasured family heirloom and then leaving out the window without a trace really pissed you off. But the fact would piss anyone off to be exact. The next thing you had in mind was calling 911 and let some investigations take place. You were certain they would find this bastard whoever did this to your home and get him under lock and key. But you wondered why Morrison wasn't fazed by this.

Perhaps the intruder did not instil any harm on him… but still, it was highly curious.

Then again, the police would probably laugh at you or approach you with casual disregard with this case. You could practically hear them saying it wasn't serious enough to be investigated, let alone noticed. But what if it happened again? Would you be able to stop it? Would you be here the next time to experience it? And if so, would you be able to stop the burglar from further violating your home?

Clenching your hands around the sink's edges, your pursed lips loosened as you blew a hair-strand from your face. "It's on."

_Meoww.._

A tickling swipe of accommodating fur snaked around your lower calf and ankles. A low purr followed.

Rolling your eyes, you exhaled with exertion "Alright, I'm going to cuddle with you. Just let me get changed and then we can go watch TV together and fall asleep." you huffed placing your hands on your slender curved hips while eyes met Morrison's.

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Outside your apartment on Columbia Avenue, hidden behind a bunch of lonely trees standing in the park, a pair of dark glinting eyes watched your distant silhouette through the window. The light flickered off once you left the room. The darkness hindered those eyes to watch you further… and so the shadow vanished like the wind, as if never being there in the first place.

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><p><strong>Yay, my first chapter done! I hope you liked Quinn (you) being the descendant of Doctor Erskine. Also, I'm very sorry that only few characters have been introduced but I wanted to get you to know 'yourself' in your role as the reader and how everything will ensue. I hope the beginning was not to crappy. And of course Steve, Natasha, Fury, Sam, possibly Clint and of course Bucky will appear in the upcoming chapters.<strong>

**I promise you it will happen very soon. But first we need to build the plot before we can move on with character development ;)**


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